Page 2 of Can't Fight the Moonlight

"If you can't push the meeting back, you'll have to bail on your grandparents. I'm sure they'll understand."

"They won't understand, and they're the only two people in the world who I really can't let down. My grandparents were there for me when no one else was. You can do this, Eric." He could hear the mix of desperation and doubt in his voice. While he respected Eric's incredible intelligence and innovation, he was much better at a computer than in a boardroom. But they were running out of options.

"Even you don't believe that," Eric said. "What about Anthony?"

"He's too green. He's only been with us nine months."

"He's better than me. You have to give him a chance. I've been telling you for a year that we need more help. It took you five years to believe in Jessica, but we don't have that kind of time anymore. Things are moving fast."

"I know, but it's difficult to trust anyone to do it right."

"I get it. But you don't have a choice."

"Is Anthony in the office now?"

"What? I can't hear you."

"Is Anthony there? If he's going to London, we need to get him on a plane as soon as possible."

"I'll find him."

"Good. I need to set up a call with him."

"What? You're breaking up."

He blew out a breath of frustration. He'd known this trip was a bad idea from the start. He never should have said yes. "Tell Anthony what's going on and I'll call you back as soon as I get to town." His gaze caught on an upcoming sign for Whisper Lake. "I'm about five miles away. Once I get to the inn, we can do a call."

"I didn't get that. Call me when you have better reception," Eric said.

Before he could say he would, the call disconnected. He pressed down on the gas. He needed to get to town quickly. Anthony was a smart guy. He'd graduated from UCLA with a degree in economics and had spent the last three years working in sales. But he didn't have a lot of experience with the company. Anthony was also only twenty-seven years old, and while Justin wasn't a lot older at thirty-two, he'd been living and breathing his business for the past ten years. But Eric was right. He didn't have a choice. He was going to have to trust Anthony. Or…

As his doubts began to grow, he wondered if he should try to make some wild attempt to get to London for the meeting on Thursday and then back to Whisper Lake before Saturday. Then he remembered the emotion in his grandmother's voice when she'd told him how important it was to her to have him there for the week. He hadn't seen her or his grandfather in over a year. He couldn't bail on them now.

He took the exit for Whisper Lake, driving along a tree-lined two-lane highway, past several small farms and a riding stable. On either side of the road, the mountains loomed. It was April and the higher slopes were still covered with snow. He had no doubt the spring skiing would be good. Not that he had time for skiing. Every minute that he wasn't spending with his grandparents, he would be working.

His grandparents wouldn't be happy to see him focusing on business. They were always on him to take time off, to stop and smell the roses, as his grandmother liked to say. But he didn't have time for roses; he had a global business to run, and that business was his life. There would be time for roses later. Maybe…if he could ever figure out a way to slow down. He had been moving full speed ahead for a very long time. He preferred a fast pace, a changing landscape. Too much time to think or stew was never good for him.

Impatient to get to the inn, he sped up, then had to slow down as he went around a curve and ended up behind an old truck that was laboring down the road, laden with trees and plants and barrels of fruit, probably from one of the farms. "Dammit," he swore, frustrated once more by a pace that was not to his liking.

He drew closer to the truck, hoping it might pull over if the driver saw him right on his tail. But then a deer darted across the road, and the truck slammed on the brakes, sending a barrel-full of lemons onto the road in front of him.

He swore as he hit the brakes hard and swerved to avoid hitting the truck. His car skidded to the side of the road, losing traction in the rolling lemons. He couldn't stop. He pushed the pedal to the floor, but there wasn't enough time to avoid smashing head-on into a fence. The windshield shattered as the front end of his rental car crumpled, and the airbag hit him in the chest.

It took him a few breathless seconds to realize he was still in one piece, although the car was not. He forced open the door and stumbled out onto the side of the road as a woman jumped out of the truck and came running toward him.

"Oh my God, are you all right?" she asked, fear and concern racing through a pair of spectacularly pretty light-green eyes.

He couldn't believe she was the driver of the truck. She appeared to be in her late twenties and was dressed in tight-fitting ripped-at-the-knee jeans that showed off some very nice curves. Her brown boots were scuffed as if she did actual work in them, and her long-sleeve cream-colored top had a streak of dirt running down the front of it. Her light-brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with loose, messy layers falling around her face.

"You're not talking," she said. "I'm going to call an ambulance." She patted her pocket, then swore. "Damn. My phone is in the truck. I'll get it."

"Wait," he said, finally managing to speak. "I don't need an ambulance. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I just need a minute." He looked around him in bemusement. He was surrounded by bright- yellow lemons. They seemed to be everywhere. And then he remembered the deer, the squealing brakes, and the fact that he'd been following way too close—not that he was going to tell her that.

"I'm really sorry about this," she said. "But you were right on my tail."

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